Now We Are Free
by Alydia Rackham
Summary: Alternate, fitting ending for Thor, to Avengers: Endgame. (No slash)


SPOILERS FOR AVENGERS: ENDGAME

Author's note: For this, I listened to "Gladiator – Now We Are Free Super Theme Song"

Enjoy!

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Now We Are Free

An Alternate Ending for Thor, to Avengers: Endgame

Alydia Rackham

Thor took a deep breath.

The air smelled sweet. Earthy. Fresh.

Rustling surrounded him—warm wind through tall grasses.

He opened his eyes. Blinked several times.

Slowly, his brow furrowed, and his vision clarified.

He was lying on his back on the ground. All around him, shafts of golden grain waved gently back and forth, their heads forming a frame to the limitless blue sky far above. He frowned harder.

Where was he? What had happened…?

A flash of memory lanced through his mind.

Violent explosions. A sky dark with smoke, shot through with blood-red light. The earth torn open, huge stones heaved asunder. The chaos of battle tearing across the dirt.

And the great Titan, Thanos, his burnished armor burning as the flares of fire and lightning glanced across its surface. His eyes like blue flame, his fists like iron. Thor, wielding Stormrbresta and Mjollnir—and all the thunder in his being—tangling relentlessly with the wicked Titan, roaring like a lion, his fingers sparking with electricity, his body pulsing with a riotous storm.

But that same body—it was betraying him.

Sluggish, not half so nimble as it used to be. Aching and heavy.

Weak.

And all it took was one misstep—

THUD.

Thanos had thrown him to the ground, twisted Stormrbresta in his grasp, and crushed the sharp blade into Thor's breastplate.

Thor felt the edge snap through the enchanted metal like a hatchet through ice.

And then it bit into his chest.

He screamed, grinding his teeth, shoving back against the handle with both hands, staring up into the dreadful, blazing eyes just inches from his face. The blade pierced downward, through Thor's flesh—and sliced into his bones. He howled. His heartbeat raged in his ears.

Then—

Mjollnir.

Thor's most faithful companion throughout every battle of his life…

It had lifted from the dust, as if drawn by an invisible hand. He stared, his weakening arms shaking…

The next instant, Mjollnir cracked through the air like a bolt of lightning—

Straight into the waiting hand of the young soldier, Steven Rogers, son of Joseph.

Joy had shot through Thor's whole heart as lightning crackled around the young man—his friend—and the noblest warrior Thor had ever known.

A great smile had spread across Thor's face.

"I knew it!" he exulted.

But then—

Thanos threw his full weight down upon Stormrbresta.

And the great axe had cleaved Thor's chest in half.

Darkness had fallen like a heavy curtain.

Thor's eyes flew open again.

A gasp tearing through him, he sat up and slapped his hands to his chest. His pulse rocketed.

But his hands didn't meet the wooden handle of the axe, nor the metal of the head, nor puddles of sticky blood. Just a loose maroon shirt, untied at the front.

"What…What…?" he panted, staring down at himself.

His body had been renewed. Clean, fresh, lean and muscular—healthier and stronger than he ever remembered being. And more than that.

His skin was smooth. Scarless. He couldn't find any of the hundreds of marks on his forearms—and when he lifted his shirt, no remnant of any stab wounds or burns from the countless battles he'd endured.

His hands stopped as he stared down the length of himself. He wore long, brown trousers, but no shoes. He felt his long hair hanging around his neck and forehead. He felt his face, and discovered his beard—thick, but not as long as it had been just a moment ago.

Then…

He suddenly felt as if someone was watching him.

He froze. His jaw tightened. Slowly, he turned his head to his left…

Someone sat cross-legged in the grass, facing him. Several stalks formed a barrier between the two of them—but Thor could see his brilliant blue eyes piercing the distance. He stopped breathing, and the two stared at each other. The wind tossed the grasses, and as it did, Thor could make out more of the stranger's form.

No beard. Very young—not of age yet. Just a boy. Pale, pearly skin, with long, wavy hair the color of wheat. Dark eyebrows and lashes, and a penetrating, thoughtful, keen gaze that seemed to cut through Thor's muscle and bone.

"Hello?" Thor managed, his voice breaking. "Do…Do I know you?"

The young, elfin person blinked, his delicate brow furrowing.

"Do you?" he asked—in a low, gentle, musical voice.

"I don't know," Thor answered, some sort of pain struggling behind his breastbone. "I…You seem familiar to me."

The youngster smiled a little. It made playful lines around his bright eyes. Thor took a shaking breath and glanced around.

"Where am I?" he asked. "Am I dead?"

"No," came the calm answer. Thor's head whipped back around, and he stared at the boy.

"You are alive," the boy assured him, nodding once. "Very alive."

His eyes sparkled with a mysterious fire as he said that. A strange tingle passed over Thor's skin.

"I do know you," Thor decided. "But I…I can't make out why, or from where—or where I am…"

"Well, why don't you stand up and look around?" the young man suggested lightly, got his own bare feet underneath him—and stood up.

Thor watched as the stranger's head disappeared through the grasses…

Carefully braced his hands on the ground, pushed off, crouched…

And rose to his feet.

The wind caught his hair. Bright and clear and hot. Carrying the scent of grain baking in the summer sun. He blinked, trying to adjust to the brilliance…

The golden sun beamed overhead in a huge, stretching blue sky. White clouds, like mountains, shone more brightly than the sun off the water. He stood in the center of a huge field of barley—one of many. He glimpsed the edge of this one, bordered by a walled road and several trees. In the far distance, the edges of the valley curved up into green foothills and woodlands, which eventually reached upward in the form of rocky peaks—and beyond them, snowy mountains scraped the sky, and disappeared into the clouds.

"Where am I?" Thor breathed again. The youth didn't answer. Thor turned to him…

The young man looked back at him.

And in that instant…

Thor knew him.

Knew those brilliant eyes, that gentle countenance, those perfectly-unruly, innocent curls, and eloquent eyebrows.

"Balder…" he gasped, his own eyes going wide. "Balder? Is it you?"

The boy grinned. It broke like the dawn, and a laugh—like a cascade of water over sparkling stones—rang out into the wind.

"Thor! I missed you!" Balder cried, jumped up and threw his arms around Thor's neck.

Thor gasped, stumbling back—tears springing to his eyes. For a moment, he didn't know what to do—his mind spun, his thoughts tumbling and tripping over each other…

Without knowing it, he wrapped his arms around the slender frame of his littlest brother.

The brother he'd last seen shot to death outside his door—lying in a pool of blood, an arrow shaft sticking from his heart, his eyes blank, his face like a ghost.

More than a hundred years ago.

"But you…" Thor tried, his voice a tangle of emotion, his face touched by Balder's hair. "You went mad. You died…!"

"I was cursed," Balder answered, letting go and dropping back down to the ground, giving Thor a frank, bright look. "Infected with an evil power, something that twisted me around." He tapped his forehead. Then, he bit his lip, and patted Thor's chest. He glanced up at Thor, his eyebrows drawing together. "I'm sorry about what I tried to do to you. And what I did to Loki. And Mother. And…everyone."

"Oh—it wasn't your fault!" Thor tried, his tears spilling down across his smile. He slapped his hands down on Balder's shoulders, and gripped them tight. "Not if you were cursed. I'm…I'm so sorry we couldn't help you."

"No, you weren't to blame," Balder assured him. "And…forgiveness comes at unexpected times, from unexpected places."

"What…What do you mean?" Thor pressed—suddenly looking all around him again. "Are we…in Asgard?"

Balder watched him, and shook his head—that same mysterious smile on his face.

"No," he answered quietly. "We are in Valhalla."

Thor stopped. Looked at him.

His heart gave a terrifying, wondrous bang.

"Bird!" The shout echoed over the fields. "Bird, have you found him?"

Balder turned, pushing his hair away from his face as the wind caught it, and shouted back.

"Yes, Mother!"

"Mother…" Thor staggered, releasing Balder, turning toward where he was looking…

A woman strolled down a lane beneath the trees at the edge of this field. She carried a basket full of red apples in the crook of her arm, and the train of her light-blue gown trailed in the green grass behind her. Her autumn-colored curls wandered over her shoulders, brushed by the breezes. She drew to a stop, and her large eyes found them. She lifted a graceful hand, and waved.

"Mother…" Thor almost tripped—then broke into a run before his mind could catch up with him. He crashed through the barley, the stalks flashing past him as he pumped his arms, his heart hammering. His feet flew over the ground—he sped faster and faster, his vision clouding with tears that streamed across his temples and into his hair. He reached the low stone wall at the edge of the field, and without a second thought, he vaulted over it. His bare feet hit the moist, thick grass, and he kept running.

Suddenly, she was in front of him. She smiled, and spread out her arms.

Then he had her.

"Ahaha, my boy!" she laughed—and he lifted her in the air swung her around, and crushed her to him, burying his face in her neck, and breaking into sobs. All the apples flung out of her basket—she bound her arms around him and kissed the side of his face, even as his whole body began to shiver.

"Mumma, Mumma, Mumma…" he repeated, screwing his eyes shut as he finally stood still, holding her tighter than ever. "I'm…I'm so…I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Oh, dearest, don't cry," she soothed, earnestly stroking the back of his head. "Come now, it's all right. It's all right now—I promise it is!"

Gasping, he loosened his hold on her so he could see her face. And as he blinked away his tears, he could see her.

She looked young. So young. Not a wrinkle or line on her face. Radiant with beauty, with life, her cheeks blushing, her warm eyes filled with her own tears. She cupped his face in her hands as he lowered her back to the ground.

"Ah," she murmured. "Now there's my handsome Sunshine."

Thor laughed—it broke, and his brow twisted.

"I don't understand," he confessed, his lip trembling. "How did I get here?"

"Your body died, my love," Frigga answered simply, wiping his tears way with her thumbs. "Do you remember? You gave your mortal life in the fight against the evil Titan. But you are safe now."

"I…" Thor's throat caught. "I _am_ dead."

His mother gave him a saucy look, brushing a strand of hair away from his forehead.

"Do you feel dead?"

"No," he said, then let out a helpless chuckle. "I feel…I feel better than I have in years. Since I was young."

"Mhm," Frigga smiled, then slid her hand down to take hold of his. "Come, your father wants to see you."

"Father is here?" Thor cried, clamping down on her hand.

"Of course, dear," she nodded, pulling on him. "Oh—Balder, could you please pick up my apples before you follow us?"

"Mhm," Balder skipped around behind Thor, took the basket from Frigga, gave a grin to Thor before starting to pick up the scattered apples, humming to himself as he did.

"I can't…I can't believe this…" Thor murmured as he finally gave in and allowed his mother to pull him on down the lane. She kept hold of his hand, and they walked side-by-side. Birds twittered in the branches of the towering oak trees overhead, and the winds swished through the canopy of leaves. The cool grass felt good on his feet, and the air filled with the perfume of the sweet hay in the neighboring field.

"Yes, it takes a moment to get used to the thought of one story coming to an end, and another beginning. Especially when you weren't expecting to be here when you woke up this morning." Thor could hear the smile in his mother's voice.

"I wasn't," he admitted, shaking his head. "I thought I would live to see the end of Thanos, and his reign of terror and destruction in the universe." His voice softened. "I thought I would truly defeat him this time."

"I think your father can give you some of the answers you seek," Frigga said, drawing Thor around one particularly large oak…

To find a man seated on a blanket, his back against the tree.

He had dark, straight hair that hung to his shoulders, and a short-trimmed dark beard. He gazed out over the hay field before him with both eyes—unharmed and vibrant—just as blue as Balder's. He had a young, powerful body, clothed in brown homespun and high boots.

"Look who's come home," Frigga beamed.

The young man—no older than Thor—turned his head, lifted his face…

And Thor saw his father.

Young. In his prime. Vivid with life.

Odin leaped to his feet.

"Thor, my boy," he gasped. "You're here!" And he stepped in, and hugged Thor with the strength of a bear.

"Father!" Thor managed, suddenly drowning in a familiar, home-like scent. The scent his father carried around with him in his clothes, in his hair—a smell Thor couldn't identify, but would know anywhere in the universe. He wrapped his arms around his father in turn, battling not to cry.

"How do you feel?" Odin asked, stepping back and keeping his hands on his son's shoulders. He beamed at Thor, his gaze bright.

"Haha, I feel…" Thor began, more tears leaking down even as he laughed. He shook his head. "I can't understand it. I don't know what to feel."

Odin slapped his arm.

"You must have questions! Come, sit down." He beckoned to him and sat back down where he had been. Frigga came around and settled next to her husband, casually adjusting the lay of her skirts. Thor hesitated, then drew closer, stepped onto the soft blanket, and sank down cross-legged next to Odin.

"I do," he finally admitted. "Have questions. What…What happened after I…left?"

"Oh, the battle raged," Odin answered, waving a hand. "The greatest battle ever fought for the fate of the universe. Your remaining friends fought bravely, but were far outmatched—until hundreds of portals appeared, created by the Sorcerer Surpreme and the other wizards, bringing through them all the armies of the light, to meet Thanos' army at its head." Odin shook his head. "Such a mighty struggle has never yet been seen—but in the end, it came down to the Titan and your brother-in-arms, Anthony of Stark, son of Howard. The son of Howard took the stones from the Titan, snapped his fingers—and wiped the enemy army from the face of Midgard. Thanos went the same way. But the strain of the Infinity Stones was too much for a Midgardian, an in wielding them, Anthony of Stark was slain."

"Oh," Thor breathed, sorrow flooding him. "He had a wife…and daughter…"

"He will see them soon," Frigga spoke up quietly. "Time is not the same here, as it is there."

Thor gazed at her, still not quite understanding—but she smiled at him, and the gentle wind moved her hair.

"But the Titan," Thor focused on his father again. "He was killed?"

"Yes," Odin nodded. "Once, and for all. He'll never return to plague anyone ever again." He reached over, and grasped Thor's wrist. His fingers were warm. Odin smiled, looking directly into his eyes.

"You fought well, my son. I am quite proud of you."

Thor ducked his head, swallowing.

"Thank you, Father, but…" he murmured. "I don't feel worthy of your pride. Nor yours, Mother." He glanced up at her, his chest tightening. "I failed to protect you from the dark elves. I failed to protect Asgard from Hela. I failed to protect our people from being slaughtered by Thanos. And I failed…I failed…"

His parents watched him as he tried to keep speaking—but no more words would come. He swallowed again, wiped at his eyes—then just covered them with his hand. Odin's fingers tightened on his wrist.

"Now, let's not make a scene," came a sudden, cool voice from overhead. "What did I tell you last time I saw you—about the sun?"

Thor's head jerked up. He sucked in a breath. He blinked five times, trying to see up into the tree…

A slender young man lay on his back on a broad branch, his bare feet braced against the trunk. He wore dark green trousers, a loose green tunic with long sleeves. His arms were folded over his chest. His feathery black hair formed a pillow for his head—he had an angular face with pale skin, and color in his cheeks and lips. He sent a sharp look down at Thor…

His emerald eyes warmed. His incredulous expression slowly, slowly softened as his breathing slowed, and his eyebrows drew together. A gentle smile touched his mouth.

"Loki," Thor whispered—hoarse and painful. He clambered to his feet—then couldn't move.

The smile faded from Loki's face. Earnest sorrow pierced his expression for an instant—

He turned and slipped off the branch. He landed in a bent position, as easily as a cat, then straightened up. He swallowed, a touch of uncertainty flickering across his face. Then, he gave an uneasy laugh and a grin, spreading his hands out to his sides.

"Well," he said. "Didn't expect to see me so soon?"

Tears scalded Thor's face. And without a word, he stepped across the blanket, grabbed Loki's shoulders, and let his head fall against his brother's collar.

The next second, Loki wrapped his arms around Thor's neck and took fistfuls of his long hair. Thor turned his head and pressed his nose into Loki's neck, grabbing the front of Loki's shirt and twisting it in his hands.

"Loki," Thor groaned. "It's…It's my fault, I'm sorry..."

"No. Shut up," Loki said into Thor's hair—and his voice quivered terribly. "It was my own blasted fault, and you know it."

"No," Thor insisted brokenly, shaking his head as he backed up, tears dripping freely. "No, I'm your older brother. I'm supposed to take care of you."

Loki gazed straight at him, searching—as if something he had said confused him.

"But you did," Loki insisted quietly, keeping tight hold of Thor's hair. "Who do you think it was that I heard in my ear all my life, daring me to be better than I was, stronger than I was, braver than I was, in spite of all my inclinations to the contrary? Who was it that beat the truth out of me, made me face everything I ever feared, made me stand up and take a literal stab into the dark, even though I knew it would doom me, on the off-chance that it just might work?" Loki raised his eyebrows in an earnest smile, lowered his head and fixed Thor with an inescapable gaze. "It was my brother. My brother who, even though he threatened me with it many times, never truly gave up on me. Not as long as I lived." Loki's brow furrowed, and he shook Thor's shoulders once. "My brother who loves me. The brother I love."

A sound escaped Thor—a tangled mix of a laugh and a sob. All pretense fell from Loki's expression, replaced with raw openness—and he stepped in, threw his arms around Thor's neck, and gripped him tight. With sudden strength, Thor bound Loki up in his own arms, weeping and chuckling at the same time.

After an eternal moment—for time didn't seem to settle, here—Thor loosened his hold, reached up and set his broad right hand against the side of Loki's head. And with his eyes alight with the torchlight of the halls of Asgard, Loki smiled back.

"Shall we walk?" came a voice from behind Thor. Reluctantly, Thor let go of Loki and turned to see the winsome Balder stroll up, and drop the basket of apples down next to Frigga.

"What? Where?" Thor asked, sniffing and wiping the tears from his face.

"Oh, there's some fantastic falls just over the hill," Loki pointed into the distance with one hand as he swiped his own tears away with the other. "Excellent place for swimming. And I told the others I'd bring you as soon as you arrived."

Thor's eyes flashed.

"Others? What others?"

Loki didn't say anything. But that slow, delighted, mischievous smile returned.

And in that moment, more names than he could count flashed through Thor's head.

"Shall we go?" Loki asked.

"Shall we…race?" Balder shouted—and suddenly took off, pelting past his older brothers and onto a narrow lane through the hay field.

For a moment, Thor stared after him, his heart pounding so wildly he felt faint.

"You lads go on," Odin called from behind him. "Mother and I will be after you in a while."

Thor's gaze fixed on Loki. Loki watched him.

And Loki grinned.

Looking exactly the way he had just before they both had come of age. No scars, no shadows. No pallor from sickness and torment. All health, youth, brilliance and strength.

"Race?" Loki asked.

Power coursed through Thor's muscles. His own smile found its way onto his mouth.

"You can't beat me."

Loki tilted his head.

"Oh, I wouldn't bet on that."

"You only say that because you always cheat," Thor challenged starting forward. Loki fell into step right beside them.

"You only say that because you always lose," Loki shot back, quickening his pace.

"And you—" Thor leaped forward. "—talk too much!"

And with that, he broke into a flashing run. Loki didn't hesitate—he sprang into a sprint right beside him.

Like two thoroughbred horses, they flew through the field, their feet darting across the ground, their hair bannering out behind them. Step for step, stride for stride, they matched. Arms swinging in unison. Powerful, blazing—equal.

For a moment, Thor fought to pull ahead—but this unsteadied the rhythm, tugged at his clothes. However, as soon as he settled back into stride with Loki, everything eased—and they ran even faster.

Thor glanced over at him. Loki met his gaze. Flashed him a grin—and turned to face the horizon again. For just a moment, Thor marveled at him—his perfection, his ease, his shadow-less features. Then, bird-like Balder leaped out from the sheaves to the right, landed easily beside Loki…

And together, the three sons of Odin raced in tandem toward the waterfalls in the valley, where all of their fathers, friends, and fallen comrades waited for them.

THE END


End file.
